sar·chasm(’sär-”ka-z&m) : The giant gulf between what is said and the person who doesn’t get it.

And so, somewhere in-between blowdrying his hair like Michael Winner and poking the underprivileged with sticks, I see my dear embryonic Gill has removed – temporarily or not, I haven’t asked him yet – his two-star (out of five, Overreaction Boy) denunciation of The Raj, Wigan. I SAID; THE RAJ WIGAN, GOOGLE!

Well, you’ve crushed a fragile talent, internet; I hope you’re happy.

I guess this shock volte-face is in the interests of basic self-preservation and not in recognition that the house wine didn’t actually taste of weewee* - we’re fairly easily identified, after all, and the last thing we’d like is the crashingly literal Disgusted of Norley Hall scootering to our hallowed gates with an attitude problem and a pot of weapons-grade sag paneer.

So, I guess this may or may not be the end of any reviews of anything not firmly in the rainbows-and-kittens end of the critical spectrum, since if anyone is to throw their toys out of the pram in an unbecoming way over trivialities, it’s going to be me.

Thus; stay tuned for more re. my universal hatred of set menus, and why I think you personally are a tit for having one.

PS – DAY 22, YO.

* A solid no points for How do you know? or standard variations.

Alzheimer's causes nerve cell de-generation which spreads in a predictable pattern through the brain.

Hey! Just a quick post. The following two links provide all the information you should need to find your wallets for Bec’s sponsored drought.

Stages of Alzheimers

Tour of your Brain

The Alzeimer’s Society funds research and care. Please donate.

It’s Day Eight of No Booze ’til Christmas. Do you know where your wallet is?

See, I don’t think you quite understand that I’ll be orange-juicing it through Halloween, Bonfire Night, myriad Christmas parties - myriad, you hear - an event in December that I’m not allowed to talk about, weekday mornings when toastie soldiers just aren’t ticking my boxes*, several dozen pub quizzes AND my workplace Christmas party pitilessly sober**.

I know I ignored your sponsored event, probably - I’m sorry, I’m deeply flawed. Oh, I don’t know what you did to deserve me either. Anyway, though, cheers.

* Dear work - this is a joke. Or is it?

** The last time I went out with workmates the night culminated in two professionals who should know better communicating entirely by shouting “DIDDLY” at each other, which should give you an idea of the sheer moose-felling volume of intoxicants I intend to forego at this event alone.

That this is day two of No Booze ’til Christmas, and I feel that you know that in the spirit (ho!) of bar (ha!) raising, I’ve had a particularly heavy weekend of it. Thank you! Nothing too much trouble!

In the spirit of a crunchy granola woman with too many cats, I’ve made a ticker about it;

… Rad.

Stay tuned for a longer entry about such pressing subjects as Why We Are Having the Wedding so Damn Far Away (why, to confuse and inconvenience, of course!)

Bec is doing the following fund raiser which is donating to Alzheimer’s Care and Research:

No Booze ’til Christmas!

Please give generously!